PEEEPSS,

Good Lord is has been one very long week. Ammirite? Like FRIYAY.

Alright! Remember to comment and vote!

Song of the chapter is, ' Million Dollar Secret', by Lucius... which I think is SO fitting. :)

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"This is my fault, we should have been out earlier," I said.

"Willie he's probably been dead for two days. Our guy is smart–this isn't on you," Hank replied.

I let out a long breath through my nose and looked over at him. "Yes, it is."

Jimmy jumped out of the boat when we got close to the crime scene. It was a chaotic mess of techs, my team, and uniforms running around. From the boat I could see him, but when Hank and I got closer I felt urgency rush through me. "Look–look at this, he was just dumped," I said.

The body wasn't neat like the others. It wasn't as clean, it wasn't covered up. I looked like it just got drug up here in a rush. He was in a rush. He was in a rush because we must have been close.

"Shit–Ok everyone that's not a tech, on a boat now! He hasn't gone far!" I called out.

My dad started to call out orders. "I want units door to door! Someone saw something! Half of you on foot and half on the water!"

"Dad?" I breathed out as he jogged towards me. Tom was rushing up with a winded look on his face.

"Damn residential," my dad hissed out. "You on foot or the boat?"

"Take the boat we can go on foot," I told him because my dad looked like he needed to be on the water hunting. It was an urge I understood too well, one that he needed to sate and I needed to let him.

I looked around and rushed out a string of curses under my breath. In the middle of a residential area. There was no way someone didn't see anything. No way at all.

"Willie, I'll send Francine on a boat–the rest of us can help with the door to door."

"Ok, sounds good," I replied quickly "Hank!"

"Let's go," Hank rushed out before he started to jog forward.

I gave my dad the boat keys then ran after Hank; between both of us it felt like we were chasing after something that was right there. It was so damn close.

I could taste the adrenaline in my mouth as we ran. It was like racing against a clock that I was set on beating.

Hank and I went with a small army of uniforms door to door around the area where Ben's body was dumped. Two had helpful information about a boat they saw and we had a uniform stay with them to call it in and get the rest of the information while we kept going.

We had to have been out for hours but I still felt like we were close to something. I still felt like there was something waiting for us–we just had to take it.

We ended up at Nana Jones' house; I remembered that we were in her cove when we got the call and on the water, it's not more than a five-minute boat trip towards where Ben was dumped.

"You think she saw anything?"

"Maybe, I don't know," I told Hank. "Let me do the talking, ok?"

"All right," he replied with a nod and I'm glad he obeyed because Nana Jones' was not having a good day.

She was more frustrated than usual, almost worked up. She kept talking about Henry like he was there with her and it took Hank and me almost half an hour to calm her down so she would talk to us.

I hated seeing her this way. I needed to talk to my dad about it. She shouldn't be here by herself but I knew she would throw a fit if we ever tried to move her out of this house where so many memories were made. Memories I'd rather leave alone.

She was a little calmer but moving about in the kitchen–making us coffee that she insisted on. Hank gave me a sympathetic half smile as he eyed her. It's sad just seeing anyone this way.

"Nana Jones, did you see anyone come by here?"

"Honey do you want some pie too?"

I shook my head with a polite smile. "No Nana, but did anyone come by on the water? On a boat?"

"I don't know honey," she sighed out tiredly as she hit the 'on' button on her old Mr. Coffee. "You know, I was just so busy with Henry this morning then Jonah was gabbing about–you know how he can be."

Hank shot me a look like he was more concerned about me by her comment. I gave him a slight tilt of my head. I was fine. Right now was not the time for me to worry about my stupid feelings.

"Ok, well did you hear anything, Nana Jones? Like a boat or a motor or even the water hitting your dock hard?"

She walked slowly to the counter and scratched at her hair that was mostly white and in a bun on top of her head. "I think maybe I did, but it's just been so quiet here. You know my ducks are usually here."

"I'm sure they will come back, Nana Jones. What do you think you heard?"

"Oh honey I hope so–I worry about them," she said with this sad look in her eyes.

"Nana Jones, did you hear anything?" I pressed again, a little more articulate in my words but still patient with her.

"I don't know honey, I'm sorry."

"It's ok Nana," I replied with a quick smile. "Do you mind if I go look outside Nana Jones?"

"Course not honey–will you look for my ducks?"

I gave her a soft smile. "Sure, Hank?"

"I'll keep an eye on this wild woman," he teased.

"Oh–you behave or no pie for you!"

Hank chuckled while I quickly walked out of the house. I let out a long breath and look around then let my feet carry me towards the water. The trees are waving in the breeze and I could see some of our police boats out in the bayou.

I ended up at the end of the dock looking into the water. I hated that filthy water. I hated that there's nothing here, not even her damn ducks. I hated this creeping feeling that this guy is watching me and getting off on watching us squirm. I hated that Ben died on my watch.

I saw the boats in the bayou and I could hear their engines from here. I wondered if Nana Jones was actually out here but her old ears prevented her from actually hearing our guy. My heart twisted a little. She's not the woman she used to be, but neither am I.

My head leaned against one of the support beams while the sound of the water lapping at the dock became the white noise to my thoughts.

But a creaking sound yanked my head around.

Something's off. I can feel my heart beating a little faster as my eyes scanned over the yard, eventually landing on the garden shed. My hand goes for my gun while I bit my lip.

I started to walk towards it when the backdoor opened. "Willie?"

I couldn't focus on him because my eyes are pulled towards the sight of footprints in the mud mixed with grass that leads up to the garden shed; footprints and what looks like where someone was drug down to the water on the far edge of her property–originally out of my peripheral view.

My gun is up and I can feel Hank walk next to me as I creep towards the shed. It creeks again but Hank and I are silent. If our guy was in there we wanted the element of surprise on our side.

Hank moves around me then steps in front of the little wooden shed's door. He looked at me and I nodded, giving him permission to kick it open.

"FBI!"

"Holy..."

"What the..."

I felt sick because I'm looking at four dead ducks, torn up like some kind of wild animal got them in her shed. There's blood on the ground, on the walls, and the back wall of the shed looks like it's leaning.

Quickly I walked to the back of it. My foot tapped what looks like a loose board, causing three of them to fall over onto the ground where blood is splattered. I stepped back and looked at the sight. There's blood on those boards looking up at me–like the person was drug over these boards then down the yard.

"Call it in," I told Hank. "And Hank?"

"Ya?"

"Let me handle Nana Jones."

"This is screwed up," Hank said while he eyed the scene again.

I don't know if it's the duck's blood everywhere or another person's, but this is too close to everything to be nothing. My hand put my gun back in the holster while I walked around the shed again; this time my eyes are combing over every detail for anything that can help. I have to find something–whoever did this tried to screw with the only woman who is like a mother to me and they are adding time to the slow death I would love to give them.

It's small and faint, but right on the corner where the back of the shed meets the wall that faces the water, is what looks like a splotch of blood. Within that splotch, is what looks like a fingerprint.

What the hell happened here?

I walked back to Hank who is putting his phone back in his pocket. "Found a fingerprint."

"Jonah Jones' grandmother–this is a strange coincidence, Willie."

"Hank, this is not the time–"

"Isn't it?"

"She is a sweet old lady–Hank, she thinks her dead husband is with her half the time. We have no idea if this is our guy or some other sick bastard, so let's not stir a pot with bullshit."

Hank's brows raised while I start to walk back to the house. "Were you ever going to tell me who she was?"

"No," I replied without looking back. Nana Jones was like my family–like a mother to me. That's what was important.

I left Hank outside while I went to handle Nana Jones because Lord knows she is going to throw a fit over so many cops being in her backyard. My mind is reeling–part of me hopes this isn't our guy. I don't want her involved in this at all–she's already been through enough.

But part of me hopes it is because then that fingerprint may lead us to that bastard.

Before I walked in and I called my dad. Dad was not happy about it and neither was I. Someone tore up her ducks and then drug some body down her yard. Someone did something to hurt her and now my blood was boiling.

"Nana Jones?"

"Willie honey, did you find my ducks?"

I wiped my shoes off on her doormat because tracking mud in here is only going to make this worse. "Uh, no Nana," I replied with a twinge of guilt to her before I walked over to the kitchen where she was sipping a coffee behind the counter. "Listen, Nana, I found some strange things outside–"

"What? What's wrong?"

I already feel bad for scaring her like this. I gave her a small smile that hopefully was calming enough. "Everything is fine, but I need my team to come have a look around the backyard. I'm really sorry–I wouldn't if I didn't have to."

She let out a long sigh and nodded slowly. "Alright honey–do they like pie?

"I'm sure they love pie," I said, thankful that she bought it up because a pie would keep her busy and unaware of all the uniforms possibly ruining her garden.

I helped Nana Jones start her pies while we waited for the troops to show up. She was more than happy for my help and I was more than happy to distract her. Hank eventually came in and let me know that some of the techs were there; they arrived right when my dad did along with the rest of my team that started to scour the backyard.

"Mo! What are you doing here?"

"Heard you were makin' a pie," my dad said with a smile before he leaned down to kiss her cheek. "Can I steal my daughter for a minute?"

"Only a minute honey, we're very busy."

"Course," my dad replied before he gave her a gentle side hug.

I followed him around to her foyer where we were definitely out of her hearing capabilities range. "She hasn't said anything–I can stay with her and see if she says anything."

"Good, keep her busy. She's going to be pissed about the backyard."

"Better call the yard boy."

My dad barked out a laugh. "No shit–her ducks?"

"It looked like an animal–I mean I've seen a lot of shit dad but this, this makes me sick."

My dad's jaw clenched as he looked around the corner where Nana Jones was humming a tune as she rolled out some pie crust. "You think it's him?"

"It's close enough and I mean, this happens the day we find Ben?"

"Why her ducks?"

"I don't know–sick bastard," I bit out.

"Ok," my dad said with a tiredness in his voice. He needed to sleep but I knew he wasn't going to until this guy was put away. "Keep her busy and let me know what she says," he told me before he kissed my cheek.

"Roger that," I replied with a mock salute before I headed back into the kitchen to help her.

Helping Nana Jones included fixing lots of coffee because everyone had to have some, helping her get some pies to thaw out in her freezer because she wanted there to be a good variety, and laughing as I watched her interact with Francine and Stevie. She told Francine that she was just a "gem" which Francine thought was adorable.

"Willie, this one right here–like a whip," she told me as she pointed to Stevie.

"Just trying to keep up with you mam'."

"It's Nana son," she said with a wave of her hand.

"Well Nana, I think they need me outside," Francine said as she looked at her phone. "Don't let him have my pie!"

"Better hurry then!" Stevie called back. "Hey Willie, can I borrow you for a second? Nana, you don't mind?"

"Just bring her back, Jonah won't like her being stolen," she said with a wink to me that stirred that strange feeling in my stomach.

Stevie gave me an understanding half smile before we walked over to the foyer that apparently was becoming the popular place to have conversations. "So we tracked down he guy that Angela went home with again–see if we could squeeze more."

"What? No shit?"

"Mhmmm," Stevie hummed. "Brad."

"What?! How did I miss that?! Wasn't in the original reports? Jesus, pick his ass up."

"Doesn't matter now, I already called it in–I was going to–"

"No, that's good Stevie," I rushed out. "That's really good. Damn, and we got a fingerprint today."

Stevie nodded with a brighter glint in his eye. "It's looking good–hopefully Brad is at the station when we get back. Do you–"

Stevie was interrupted when I heard some commotion and Nana Jones' voice. My feet were rushing me towards her while concern flared in me. She was at her backdoor with utter horror painted on her face. A uniform was trying to talk to her but she was just focused on the other uniforms that looked like ants in her yard.

"Nana Jones!" I nodded to the officer who looked more than grateful to be dismissed.

"Oh! Just look at my backyard! Willie! They are stomping over everything–my rose bushes!"

"Nana?" Stevie called out as he strode towards us. "Can I get a piece of pie now? Sorry, I'm starved."

She let out a long breath then nodded to him. "Sure honey."

"Me too Nana?"

"Oh, this one–could never keep her fingers off of my pies." I smile at Stevie and mouth, "thank you," to Stevie who continued to help me distract her.

"So, Nana Jones?"

"Ya honey?" she asked while I slid onto a barstool behind the counter where she was slicing some pie out. I wasn't even sure what kind it was, I was too preoccupied with trying to figure out who the hell tore her ducks up. "You said before that you don't remember anything?"

"That's right honey," she replied while Stevie picked up his coffee and leaned against the island facing me.

"Did anyone use your shed today?"

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "It was just you and Hank."

"Nana Jones," Stevie said. "Does anyone else use it? Do you go in there?"

"Oh heavens no. It's just equipment that Henry and Jonah use to keep the yard nice."

Stevie gives me a quick glance; I can see it in his eyes. The recognition of what I'm feeling because in his eyes I can see that he's felt it too.

"Nana Jones, you have such a nice home."

"Oh well, you're sweet honey."

"Have you lived here for a while?"

"Oh yes," she said while she scooped some pie that looked like it was chocolate onto a plate. "Been here for years and years and years. My babies were raised here, grand babies, and this one here," she said with a wink in my direction.

"Lot's of memories then?"

"Oh yes, this house holds them."

It did. For a moment I can hear her laughing again and chasing us around–I can hear Jonah sneaking up behind me only to steal my crust. I can hear a life I used to have and my stomach twists. I had to find whoever did this to her.

"So Nana, you haven't seen anything or anyone?"

"No honey, just that usual fisherman."

"Who is it, Nana?"

"Oh that old man down the street," she griped as she pushed plate of pie towards me. "He gets too close to the dock, Henry hates that–I told Jonah to talk to him but that asshole never listens."

She seemed more irritated by something else and I wonder if this 'man' is our guy. If maybe she's seen him creeping to closely. I bit my lip because I don't know how much more I can press her; she's going to get upset and we may get nothing. It may not be worth it.

"Oh! Honey tell them to get off of my Petunias! We just planted those–Henry loves them, oh, I can't–"

"Nana Jones." My father's voice is a saving grace. "You sliced up a pie and didn't tell me?"

"Mo, you know where the knife is," she replied with a little laugh.

"I got her Willie," my dad said with a tired smile.

"Nana Jones, do you mind if I look around?" Stevie asked.

"Course not, just don't track mud around on my carpet," she tells him, pointing the butter knife at him that's still covered with chocolate pie filling. "Willie and Jonah used to just drive me up the damn wall with mud."

"I'll give him the tour Nana," I told her as I slid off of my seat.

I walked Stevie down the main hall that led to her bedroom and a guest bathroom. There was a set of stairs on the right in the middle of the hall that led up to what I remember as her crafting room–which used to be Delia's, as well as Jonah's room. They both had rooms here and would stay often, so Nana Jones just let them decorate them as they would their own rooms at home.

Stevie stopped and leaned against the hall wall where all the pictures of Jonah, Delia, and I growing up are still on the wall. It's so weird seeing them–seeing myself. Seeing someone who seems like lifetimes away.

"Has she been like this for a while?"

"I think so, dad mentioned before that she's getting worse."

"Family?"

"Just her daughter. She's in New Orleans doing God knows what. She has a granddaughter, Delia, but I have no idea where she is."

"No one here?"

"Not anymore."

Stevie nodded to me. "My granddad–my mother's father, is like that. He's gotten pretty bad over the last few years. I get it."

"I'm sorry."

"It's life," he breathed out. "What do you think?"

"I don't know, " I said. "I would say that whoever it was saw the opportunity of a shed and an empty lawn and took it, but the ducks–why tear her ducks up?"

Stevie bit at his lip and shrugged. "That's throwing me for a loop too. I mean, I can see our guy using the shed as maybe a temp hide out because he knows that there's this old woman who lives here and will more or less not notice him. But the ducks? I mean our guy is clean, that's a mess."

"And the fingerprint..." I rubbed at my face and looked back up at him. "Our guy is careful."

"Unless he wasn't? Maybe he was rushed or purposeful? Maybe he was sending a message, like claiming the area. Telling us to stay away–the ducks could be a warning."

My heart flipped. "I'm putting patrols on her. She's here alone. Anyone could come in here."

"We can also take turns staying here–I mean she's got like a lifetime of pie. I wouldn't mind and I doubt the others would."

"I'll see what my dad says, I may come stay with her," I replied. "Let's have some uniforms stake the area out."

"Good idea." Stevie looked around the looked at the stairs. "What's up there?"

"Last time I was here, years ago, it was her craft room, Delia, and Jonah's rooms."

"Has that changed?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, I haven't been up there. To be honest I don't know if she does. She can't get up the stairs well–my dad installed that new rail for her but I don't know if she bothers."

Stevie nodded but there was a look on his face that said he was seeing something else. A story that I wasn't privy too–a theory.

"What is it?"

"Not sure," he told me while he scratched at his chin. "I need to let it brew."

"Thank, Stevie."

He looked over through the foyer towards the kitchen where Nana Jones was rushing about to get some pie sliced. "People like her shouldn't have to suffer like this."

"Willie?"

"Hey dad," I replied as Stevie nodded to me before he walked back to the kitchen.

Dad rubbed his tired face then looked back over towards the kitchen. "She's going to be pissed when she sees her yard. Don't let me forget to call her yard guy."

"What about her? She's here all on her own?"

"I've got patrols staking it out. I was thinking about staying here myself–I tried to call Nadine but you know how flaky her daughter is."

"Her ducks, dad..."

"I know," he replied with a clench of his jaw.

"How did we not see him today? I mean we had people crawling the swamps..."

"We're going to get this bastard. A kid and Annette's damn ducks–piece of shit."

"He is," I replied. "She's talking about Henry more."

Dad looked up at me with brown eyes that held this familiar sadness in them. "I know–she's still got her mind but, it's getting worse."

"Has she seen a doctor?"

"I think so. After this shit cleared up then I was going to see if she would let me take her."

"I hate that she's here by herself," I breathed out. "Delia?"

"No idea," my dad said with a shrug. "I hate it too. She's too good of a person to be here by herself. She's had enough hell in her lifetime to deal with."

I looked at my shoes and nodded. The hallway was starting to get to me; the pictures of Jonah looking back at me like shovels uncovering the hole in my soul.

"She shouldn't be here on her own."

"She won't leave this house–you know that. It's all she has left."

"And us," I added. "She has us."

Dad nodded with a sad smile. "She does."

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BUM BUM BUMMMMM

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